


just blister on my tongue

by inlovewithnight



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Barebacking, Casual Sex, Drug Use, Friendship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22704187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inlovewithnight/pseuds/inlovewithnight
Summary: When Gabe was a rookie, new to the NHL and figuring out how to balance what he wanted to do with what he needed to do, Erik gave him some ground rules.
Relationships: Gabriel Landeskog/OMCs
Comments: 4
Kudos: 96





	just blister on my tongue

When Gabe was a rookie, new to the NHL and figuring out how to balance what he wanted to do with what he needed to do, Erik gave him some ground rules.

He didn’t do that until _after_ Gabe had already fucked up, of course, because why would it occur to anyone that they needed to tell Gabe anything until Gabe had already stumbled on his own. Gabe was still buzzing and wanted company, not to be by himself, so he took himself to his road roomie’s, who had to take care of him.

Erik met him in the front hallway and his eyebrows went up, studying the mess that had been put in his care. Gabe grinned up at him, warm and happy and floating on cloud of endorphins and chemical substitutes.

“You had fun tonight, huh?” Erik shook his head, smiling a little. “Where did you go?”

“Clubbing.” Gabe swayed and caught himself on the wall, then gave in and just flopped against it, letting it do the work of holding him up. “It was so great.”

“I can tell.” Erik snorted and shook his head. “C’mon, you need water. You just drunk or fucked up, too?”

Gabe trailed him to the kitchen, taking each step with care. It was bright in there. Probably Erik would laugh at him if he asked to turn off some of the lights, though. “Did a couple of lines. Some poppers. Have you done those? They’re so fun.”

Erik snorted again, digging through the cabinet and coming up with a battered mug. “Can’t say I have. So you were at the gay clubs, then?”

“Uh huh.” Gabe sat down at the table and rested his chin in his hands. “So fun.”

“I’m glad you had fun.” Erik filled the mug at the fridge dispenser. “Drink this.”

Gabe did as he was told, squirming a little in the chair just to feel the throb between his legs. God. He wanted to do this every night, forever.

Erik was watching him, narrow-eyed, sharp. “You hooked up, huh?”

“Yeah.” Another squirm, letting his eyes fall half-closed, remembering the solid thrust that filled him up, shoved him against the wall, sated the restless needy ache he had been feeling for days.

“You went home with him?” Erik’s voice was so carefully neutral. Gabe liked him so much, he didn’t judge, he just took care of him, helped him figure things out.

“No.” He shook his head and finished his water, keeping the mug between his hands because it gave him something to do with his fingers, letting them spider-crawl all over the surface. The mug had a Blues logo on it. Weird that Erik didn’t throw that away when he got traded. “We fucked in the bathroom at the club.”

Erik laughed a little at that, shaking his head. “Of course you did.”

“It was really good.” He leaned forward, looking Erik in the eye, suddenly eager to share every detail. “He was so hot, you don’t even know, he had this tattoo on his chest and he—”

“I don’t need to hear this, bud.” Erik grinned at him, though; it wasn’t mean. “Let’s get you another water and watch a movie, okay? Make sure you come down before I put you to bed.”

Gabe sighed and pushed the mug toward him. “Okay. Can I shower first? I’m, you know.” He gestured at his thighs. “Leaking a little bit.”

“Oh, _Jesus_ , Whitey.” Erik closed his eyes. “Seriously?”

“What? I told you, we fucked in the—”

“I can’t believe I have to give you a talk about not barebacking with random people in club bathrooms.” Erik put his hands over his face for a minute. “Actually, that’s the whole talk. Don’t bareback with random people in club bathrooms! Use condoms! What is wrong with you!”

“He didn’t have one and I really wanted to fuck!”

“Jesus.” Erik made a weird moaning sound and dragged his hands down his face. “You have to be responsible for your own shit. We’re going condom shopping tomorrow. I hate that I have to say those words.”

Gabe’s stomach flipped, sending acid churning in his throat. “Are you mad at me?”

“A little bit, yeah.” Erik grabbed the mug off the table and went back to the fridge. “But not, like, mad-mad. You just need to be _careful_ , okay? If the front office finds out they’ll be so pissed.”

“I didn’t think about it.”

“Obviously.” Erik shook his head. “Go take your shower, okay? Then come back down and we’ll watch a movie. I’ll order food.”

Gabe’s eyes felt hot, sore. Not quite like he was going to cry, but like he _could_ , if he wasn’t careful. “I’m really sorry.”

“Just don’t do it again.”

“I won’t. I swear.” All of his good feelings were ruined. He felt like _shit_ , sitting there with Erik mad at him and his ass sticky and a headache forming at the back of his skull.

Erik looked at him and sighed. “I don’t hate you, okay? Doing dumb shit is what rookie year is for. It’ll be okay. Go take a shower and we’ll hang.”

Gabe nodded a little and left the room, scrubbing his hands over his face as he climbed the stairs. Erik was only a little mad, and he wouldn’t _tell_ anybody, he wasn’t like that. All Gabe had to do was _do better_ and it would be okay.

When he came back downstairs, clean and dressed in sweats that EJ left outside the bathroom for him, his headache growing at a steady rate, there were already delivery noodles and a Gatorade waiting for him along with the mug of water. Erik took one look at his face and rolled his eyes, then came over to pull him into a hug.

“You’re okay,” he said quietly. “Don’t beat yourself up, just don’t do it again. That’s all. Got it?”

Gabe nodded, trying to lean into him without fully collapsing. “I won’t. Promise.”

“And if you ever need help getting out of a situation, you can call me. Text me. Whatever.” Erik ruffled Gabe’s hair carefully. “Any time, any place.”

Gabe nodded and let himself hide his eyes against Erik’s shoulder, just for a minute. “Thanks, EJ.”

**

Seasons pass and Gabe grows up but he never really finds a situation where Erik’s baseline advice from back then was wrong. Be smart, look out for yourself, don’t bareback with random people in club bathrooms. Drink water when you get home from going out. The basics stay true, as far as Gabe can tell.

He goes out less as he gets older, of course. Being in your mid-twenties is different as a hockey player than as a regular person. The game and the league make you age fast. And while he’s still not super-recognizable, being the captain makes him more so than he was as a rookie. His list of attempted hookups that got foiled by someone else in the bar recognizing him and getting weird grows by the year.

Sometimes he gets restless, though. Or lonely. Or both. There’s a long-standing, tried-and-true set of rituals for guys in the league to pick up women, and he’s as good at those as anybody else on the team. When he wants to be with a guy, though, he’s on his own.

He goes out with the guys after a game and only stays for a few drinks. Nate didn’t come out because he’s not putting toxins in his body right now or…whatever that whole thing is, and Erik almost immediately zeroes in on someone at the bar. Gabe’s never quite been able to figure out the reasoning behind Erik’s type—hard-eyed women with dark mouths and a sharp edge to how they move—but that type is distinct and unwavering. Whatever makes the guy happy.

Tonight, EJ and his intended seem to hit it off right away, and Gabe excuses himself before he can end up the one left behind at the bar. He dodges the rest of the guys and gets an Uber to one of the clubs that’s lasted since his rookie days—not the one from that stupid bathroom hookup, it closed years ago, but its spiritual successor. He’s probably too old for it now, honestly, but he’s lonely and restless and he wants some dick and it’s his own business, isn’t it? He doesn’t have to justify it to anyone.

He definitely needs another drink.

Once he’s at the bar, in the dim light and with bodies pressed close around him, he feels much better. Suit pants and a black t-shirt aren’t the median look for this crowd but they aren’t shockingly out of place either. He gets his drink and an approving down-up scan from the bartender and finds a place to stand and watch the dancefloor for a moment, scoping out anyone who might be looking back.

It’s nice to realize that plenty of people are looking, and to remember that he’s not as old as he feels. He ends up out on the floor with a big guy in leather pants, one who is very comfortable grabbing him and moving him around where he wants him. Gabe wasn’t sure of the exact flavor he was looking for tonight, but this sample spoon of being topped to hell and back works for him. He grinds up against the guy—the name he shouted in Gabe’s ear was probably Steve, or possibly Pete; he’s going to assume Steve for the moment—and lets him work the two of them over toward one of the walls.

There’s more grinding, of course, once Gabe has the wall holding him in place, and deep, hungry making out that makes him moan like an idiot whenever he breaks away to catch his breath. Steve squeezes and rubs him through his pants, and Gabe squirms, laughing breathlessly and catching him by the wrist.

“Let me buy you a drink first,” he says into Steve’s ear above the music. “I’m old-fashioned like that.”

Steve looks surprised, but he laughs and lets Gabe move away from the wall. He sticks close as he follows Gabe to the bar, touching him almost constantly here and there, two fingers curling in the waistband of Gabe’s pants so the knuckles work against Gabe’s hipbone.

They drink and dance some more, Steve’s hands exploring Gabe’s body all over until Gabe’s nerves are singing. This is exactly what he was looking for, what he needs. He sways in close, mouthing at Steve’s neck, drawing a breath to suggest that they get out of there and go back to his place.

Steve lifts his phone just as Gabe’s about to speak. “Hey,” he says, grinning. “My friend’s at a party and says it’s a good time. You want to get out of here and head over there?”

Gabe’s first impulse is still to say they should go somewhere with a flat surface and fewer clothes, but Steve’s grin is extremely promising, and when was the last time Gabe went to a party, anyway? It would be quieter there than at the club, there might be flat surfaces there as well, maybe some recreational pharmaceuticals—why not? He deserves a little fun. He’s been being _so_ good and boring lately.

“Sure,” he says, placing a last kiss on Steve’s neck. “Lead the way.”

They Uber to a high-rise condo building, in the same kind of neighborhood the Avs guys look at before they move out to single-family homes. Gabe doesn’t mention that, of course; he just makes vague admiring noises while Steve brags about how he lives nearby, he and his friends work at this place or that place, the value of the condos is going through the roof, investment homes, other stuff Gabe doesn’t understand or care about because it’s got nothing to do with his life.

The party has a bartender who mixes a vicious vodka tonic. Gabe has several while Steve takes him around the room, introducing him to people he immediately forgets about. There’s coke on a table by the west-facing windows, where they both stop to top up, and a cavernous bedroom in the back where Steve pushes Gabe face-down on the mattress and fucks him breathless and gasping. It’s not the best sex he’s ever had by any stretch of the imagination, but it scratches the itch that’s been following him around. And just like Erik taught him, when Steve says he doesn’t have a condom handy Gabe produces one from his own pocket.

So all in all, a good night. He makes his way to the bathroom after to clean up, splash some water on his face, and take stock of himself. He’s fairly drunk, could do another bump, isn’t quite ready to go home and sleep yet. Decent plan of action seems to be finding Steve again and hanging out for a while longer. Maybe they could go back to his place after all and go another round. Steve had gone direct to the main event in the bedroom and Gabe hasn’t sucked cock in a while, he wouldn’t mind getting on his knees and making sure he hadn’t lost his touch in that area.

He finds Steve back at the table by the window and indulges himself again, before offering a smile and opening his mouth to make his pitch. But just like before, he gets a phone in his face and bigger smile.

“Another party,” he says. “Way better than this. Just crazy. You in?”

And that wasn’t what he’d planned on, but this party had turned out well, so why not?

“Why not?” he says, matching Steve’s grin. “You definitely know how to show a guy a good time. I trust you.”

Steve laughs. “Famous last words, right? I’m gonna hold you to that. Let’s go.”

**

Gabe isn’t stupid. Really, he’s not. He picks up on the vibe that things are taking a turn as soon as the Uber drops them off in front of the next building. It’s another condo high-rise, but in the trendy neighborhood from a few years ago. The outside is sleek and fancy, but when they get into Steve’s friend’s place, it’s clear nobody is really interested in taking care of the inside. It’s all things that only are noticeable on the second look, the second ten minutes of being there. There’s a smell that he can’t quite identify, something beyond just a lived-in place. There are marks and stains. The furniture is pricey, but has taken a beating.

Gabe tells himself not to be a snob and follows Steve around just like at the last place. No bartender here, but a nice selection of bottles lined up on the counter. He mixes himself another vodka tonic and drinks slowly, hoping to chase the headache that he can feel getting ready to bloom behind his eyes.

“Babe,” Steve says, and Gabe blinks, because that’s either a joke or being really presumptuous. “Come over here, you’ve gotta meet Jake, I was telling you about him earlier.”

Gabe doesn’t remember a damn thing about Jake, but he puts on his smile and offers his hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Jake looks him up and down with what can only be described as a leer. Gabe didn’t think leering was still a thing people did, but here’s proof. “Steve’s got good taste.”

Steve throws his arm around Gabe’s shoulders and Gabe’s teeth grit in his smile. Should’ve gone home after the first party, but he’s here now. He has to stick this out.

It’s okay for a while, it really is. He drinks and listens to them talk about whatever incomprehensible bullshit they’re talking about. Steve touches and grabs him intermittently and then gets distracted and leaves him alone for stretches of time. This condo doesn’t have windows facing the mountains, but it _does_ look into another place across the courtyard, where a guy is watching football on a screen large enough that Gabe can make out some of the action even at this distance.

He’s squinting at a fourth-and-down when Steve tugs on his arm. “Hey. We’re going in the back, come with us.”

Gabe dearly hopes that whatever’s in the back isn’t a setup for an orgy, because he’s not really interested in seeing Jake naked, or either of the other guys walking down the hall with them, neither of whose names he can remember. Still, he can keep being polite for a while longer. He got himself into this, he has to see it through, and the story will make the next team plane ride entertaining, at least.

There’s no bed in the room Jake shows them into, thank god, just a cluster of couches and chairs around a table. Gabe’s stomach drops into his shoes anyway, because the table has a drawer under it, and the first things Jake pulls out of the drawer are a baggie and a distinctly well-used pipe.

Fuck.

He hangs back by the door while they sit down, wracking his brain for the most laid-back but unmistakable exit line possible. Nothing is coming to mind, because his life is a fucking disaster and he _is_ , in fact, too old to be doing this.

Steve glances up at him. “What’s wrong? Come sit down.”

Gabe forces a smile. “Just, sorry. I can’t. My job, um, it tests for that.”

Steve’s eyes widen a little. “Ohh. Shit. Um, okay, do you mind waiting a few minutes? We can definitely get out of here soon, I just want to…”

“You can help yourself to another drink,” Jake offers, pulling a lighter out of the drawer, and Gabe manages a stiff nod before turning to the door. “Close it behind you?” Jake asks as he goes, and Gabe does, his free hand curling into a fist to keep from shaking. _Fuck_.

He does grab another drink, gulping it down in the kitchen while he looks around at the other people in the main room. No one is paying the slightest attention to him. He can wait here for Steve and it will probably be fine.

He doesn’t fucking want to wait for Steve anymore.

He pulls his phone out of his pocket while he slips out the door and makes his way to the elevator. The Uber app is right there, all he has to do is order a car and go. It’s fine.

But he doesn’t want an Uber right now. He wants to be comforted and he wants to be punished for being an idiot, at the same time. And that means there’s really only one person he can ask for.

He texts Erik.

_Come get me?_ and his location pin, before getting on the elevator. When he emerges in the lobby, there’s no answer; when he walks outside and gets half a block from the building, one finally comes through. (It’s only been two and a half minutes. The _finally_ is because it felt like a year.)

_On my way. Are you hurt?_

Gabe exhales a heavy breath, half a laugh and half a sob catching in it. _No I’m okay._

No answer to that. Gabe stands there on the sidewalk, leaning on a streetlight, stepping back toward the row of landscaping whenever a car comes by. He doesn’t want to be mistaken for someone waiting for a ride or a dealer or… whatever. He just wants Erik to get here and take him home.

It’s a little over half an hour before Erik’s truck pulls up, by which time Gabe is shaking with exhaustion and the coke wearing off, and nauseated from the booze going sour and swirling in his guts. His eyes are hot and achy with the desire to cry, which he will _not_ give in to, because he is a big strong hockey boy and boys don’t cry, especially when the situation they’re in is their own fucking fault. He doesn’t deserve the relief of crying. He deserves Erik ripping him a new one, which is definitely going to happen when he gets in the cab of that truck.

Erik leans across the cab and pushes the door open. “Get in, dude. Unless you need to puke first. Don’t puke in here.”

“Not gonna puke.” Gabe climbs inside and pulls the door closed, fumbling with his seatbelt as his hands abruptly decide they don’t want to cooperate at all. “Thanks for coming.”

“Yeah.” Erik is staring at him, Gabe can feel it; sharp eyes peeling his skin right off his bones. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Gabe nods. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t want to talk about it, huh?” Gabe shakes his head and Erik puts the truck in gear, easing away from the sidewalk.

They drive in silence for a while, until he looks up and realizes what neighborhood they’re going through. “This is the way to your house.”

“No shit.” Erik changes lanes and taps his fingers on the wheel. “Good observational skills.”

“You can just take me home, you don’t have to—”

“Shut up.” Erik jerks his head toward the fast-food restaurant at the next corner. “You need food?”

Gabe’s stomach shudders. “No.”

Erik nods and keeps going. The silence is thick, tense, awful, and Gabe regrets every choice he’s made tonight, especially the one to call Erik instead of just getting a ride of shame home in peace.

Except no, because he deserves this. He deserves to be punished for fucking up. “Yell at me or something.”

Erik glances sideways at him. “Yell at you for what?”  
“For being stupid and… a sex idiot and…” His voice keeps catching in his throat but he pushes the words out anyway. “Hooking up with random guys and going partying and getting fucked up and… just… being stupid.”

Erik blinks slowly and hits his turn signal, steering the truck through the last turn before his street. “Well, if being stupid was a crime, Gabe, our whole team would be in jail, right?”

Gabe wants to laugh, but all he can manage is a rough gasp. “EJ…”

“You’re a grown-up. You can hook up and get fucked up if you want to.” Another glance. “Obviously something happened that you didn’t like, but you’re telling me you’re not hurt and I’m going to believe you.”

Gabe shakes his head. “I just… we went from the club to a party to another party and that last one was over my head I guess.”

Erik’s eyes narrow a bit. “So a little taller than six feet. Hmm.”

He does manage to laugh this time. It sounds kind of wobbly, but he manages it. “Meth, I think? I’m not, like, an expert. But I’m pretty sure.”

“Oh, shit.” Erik nods slowly and turns into his driveway. “Well. Good job walking out on that. You get a gold star from the nice policeman doing the sixth grade say no to drugs program.”

He didn’t even say it in a mean way. Gabe still felt like Erik had put a fucking pickaxe through his sternum.

Erik parks the truck and sits there for a minute before he twists the keys and kills the engine. “Why’d you get yourself that deep into it?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re not stupid, Gabe. You do know.”

Gabe takes a deep breath and lets it go, shoving down on the heat behind his eyes yet again. “I wanted to have fun? I wanted to get laid? I wanted him to like me?” He can’t look at Erik, just straight ahead through the windshield. “I think that’s it.”

There’s another minute of quiet, and Erik pushes the driver’s door open. “Come inside.”

Inside, the hard-eyed girl from the bar is standing in the kitchen. Her lipstick’s gone and her hair is messier than it was, but she’s dressed and finishing a cup of coffee from Erik’s machine.

She looks from Gabe to Erik a few times, then shakes her head. “Yeah, I was gonna go, and I’m… gonna go. I left my number. You should call me sometime when you’ve got less of a crisis, okay?”

“For sure.” Erik watches her make her way down the hallway he and Gabe just came up, then sighs and nods toward the table. “Sit, Landy. You need water.”

Gabe does as he’s told, staring at his hands. “Sorry to wreck your night, too.”

“You didn’t. We had fun, she wasn’t sure she was going to sleep over, I got your text when she was still deciding.” Erik pulls a mug out of the cabinet and goes to the fridge to fill it. Some things never change. “I’m surprised she waited for me to get back.”

Maybe focusing on the inconsequential is better. “Are you going to call her again?”

“Probably. We’ll see.” Erik sets the mug in front of Gabe and leans against the table, looking down at him. “Answer me for real this time. Are you okay?”

Gabe breathes in deep and breathes out slow. “I’m tired.”

Erik’s shoulders drop a little. “Me too, bud. Me too.”

“I’m sorry for…” Gabe trails off and swallows hard. “Thank you for coming to get me.”

Erik gets it. He can see that, even though Erik’s a master at keeping his face blank and his eyes flat. He gets what Gabe’s trying to say.

“Don’t do dumb shit to try to get people to like you,” he says quietly, reaching out to ruffle Gabe’s hair. “I like you already. No dumb shit required. Okay?”

Gabe takes a drink of water so he won’t cry, and wishes Erik had left his hand there a little longer so he could lean into it. “Okay. I’ll try to remember that.”

“Finish your water and I’ll put on a movie.” Erik steps past him, squeezing Gabe’s shoulder as he moves. “Don’t beat yourself up.”

Gabe nods and drinks the rest of his water, then goes and refills the mug before he joins Erik in the living room. He shouldn’t feel better yet. He doesn’t feel better yet, not really. He meant what he’d said before: he’s tired.

But at least he always has somewhere to go.


End file.
